Bound by Scarlet Rope
by Dream of Californication
Summary: They were not tied to one another by a delicate, red string... not like the rest of the world's couples. Instead, they donned bindings of vivid rope, and they were gagged by duty. The pair couldn't scream, nor could they escape. But did they really want to elude obligation? *WARNING: Future citrus! R&R*
1. The Search

**I've acquired a new taste as of late. A craving, if you will.**

**Haruhi x Mori**

**Strange pairing... but I cannot get enough of it, for some reason.**

**-D.O.C**

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**I own nothing of Ouran Highschool Host Club. I own only this simple plot.**

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A single brown eye peeked though the crack in the door.

A rose petal drifted forward, but didn't assault the cornea, so the eye's owner knew the teens in the spacious room did not send the velvety object over to greet him.

The figure's ears twitched, and he hurriedly hid behind a marble pillar, watching as a group of females rushed toward the abandoned music room's doors, bursts of petals whirling around the quartet of girls.

When they disappeared, he took his post, once again, using his karate training to keep light on his feet, lest he need to make a quick dodge.

It turned out that he _did_ need to dodge pieces of heavy wood- a gust of tearing wind, so different than the billowy breeze that welcomed the girls, turning the crack between doors into a gaping entrance, dozens of eyes staring curiously.

A still figure stood, leaning against the wall, long fingers fiddling with a huge fan's dial.

"Satoshi." _**'Why are you here, and why are you spying on me?' **_He could read the question in those charcoal-gray eyes.

The stalker simply smiled, impressed by the tall teen's ability to notice his presence.

"Takashi, Father sent me to do an investigation..." He trailed off, glancing around the room, uncertain if he should relay the message in front of so many people.

"Hn." A grunt from the imposing male and a gesture towards a separate room lured Satoshi further into the near-silent music room.

Girls studied the new arrival with blatant interest, due to the striking similarities between the shorter boy and their beloved, silent host.

When the door to the instrument-storage-room-turned-pantry closed, another male smiled coyly at the guests.

"Mori-senpai will be out shortly, so I guess there's just more girls for us at the moment..." He pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, and the faux-possessive tone in his voice caused many of the females to swoon.

**... ... ... **

"Well, Takashi... you see..." Satoshi faltered. This was harder than he thought.

"What?" _**'What is it? I don't have all day. Out with it. Hurry up.'**_

A deep breath. "Father sent me to find out what type of girls you... favor."

"..." _**'Pardon?'**_

"Um... Since you're in the Host Club... Father decided it would be best to... observe you... in action." Satoshi grimaced. "He sent me because he thought you would have a client... type."

"..." **_'What is the meaning of this, Satoshi?!'_**

Reading those gray eyes like a book, the shorter teen smiled, uncomfortably.

"He needs to know your type, because he's going to find you a wife."

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Mori frowned slightly.

"Father,"

The older man cut him off, face equally as stoic.

"Takashi. You are eighteen. It is time to look for a wife, settle down with her, produce an heir."

The teen's lips twitched, showing his displeasure.

"Now?" His cold voice broke the quiet, _**'I'm eighteen. Now is for college, hardly the time for children.'**_

"Yes, _now_." His father said, mocking his child. He gestured at the door, "You may leave. I have several files to look over."

The door slammed, the only inkling anyone had to the Morinozuka heir's current mood.

Akira sighed heavily. He wished his eldest son was more like himself or Satoshi.

"With silence like that, it'll be hell to find a bride." He muttered in dismay, not one to curse regularly.

He looked over the stack of copies his help had been able to get from Ouran Academy. He had asked for all girls in the first year to third year, his son's grade.

They all looked like lovely girls, but, for some reason, Akira couldn't stop himself from seeing a gleam in those paper eyes. A thirst for more wealth.

He shuddered, flipping though the papers faster.

It was like someone had copied the same thing over and over, occasionally adding a freckle, or changing the hair and eye colors.

All the girls had long, wavy hair, styled for the year's spring pictures. Supposedly the "in" style was soft waves.

They all donned bright yellow dresses, the uniform.

Every girl had a bright, overly cheerful, grin plastered on their face.

He came to a stop about two-thirds the way through his stack, ready to tear his facial hair out.

Flipping a few more pages, he halted.

"Why is a boy in here?" He murmured, frowning as he skimmed over the information.

He was shocked to see it was really a female, with the girl's appearance.

She had dark, chestnut hair, cropped like a male's. Her happy brown orbs were just blank- she was obviously uncomfortable taking the picture.

She was clad in a boy's uniform, blazer powder-blue, a black tie at her throat.

_'Trangender?'_ He tapped his chin.

**Fujioka, Haruhi**

**Sex: F**

**Age: 15**

**Height: 155 cm**

**Class: 1-A**

Along with other mundane information, his eyes found a line labeled, "Clubs."

**Clubs: Ouran Host Club**

"Is she homosexual?" Akira mused. How did the staff know there was a Host Club? Did they know that its members were making a profit from entertaining girls?

_'Obviously not. They wouldn't allow student money to go to anyone but the academy itself.' _He thought._ 'All the school knows is that my son and this girl are participating in something akin to "formal dining and tea" training for young women.'_

"Fujioka..." He tested the name on his tongue, leaning back into his chair. He swapped it for his family's surname. "Haruhi Morinozuka."

_'It has a nice ring to it.'_ Akira smiled slightly._ 'Now, all I have to do is find out if she is homosexual, or not, and I'll have a suitable fiancee for Takashi.'_

He liked the way she looked. With hair like that, she seemed to scream, "I don't care what others think of me!"

If this was so, she'd be the perfect match for Takashi. And, since they were in the Host Club together, they must have known each other, already!

Akira wouldn't have to set up lunches and dates- they were acquainted!

"Satoshi!" He called, smiling when he heard stomping footsteps pad toward his study's door.

"Yes, Father?"

"Find me the number for the father of this... Fujioka girl."

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**Anyone like it?**

**Please, drop a review giving me your thoughts.**

**-D.O.C**


	2. The Bride

**Well, I pre-wrote the first four chapters of this story, just in case school gets tough again. If it does bear down on me like last semester, I'm not going to have nearly enough time to write many new chapters, let alone make it an enjoyable fic, so I had back-up chappies.**

**I already have one story on hiatus, due to writer's block, and one ongoing fic at the moment. (August of 2013) So, that's a bit of work-time that I can't put towards this story. I thought I'd grab a head-start.**

**-D.O.C**

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**Disclaimer!**

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Haruhi looked at her table of guests, cocking her head slightly and giving her, "natural" smile.

The three girls in front of her blushed brightly and started stammering.

"Ladies, it's been a real treat to see you, again, but I have to go, now."

Groans of anguish rang in her ears as she stood from the small table, catching her, "manager's" eyes.

A single nod was sent her way by Kyoya as he jotted something down on his clipboard, no doubt adding onto her debt because she was skipping her last appointment of the day, which had been scheduled after her meeting with the prior feminine trio.

Haruhi sighed, divesting herself of her constricting blazer, dreamy sighs trailing after her form, which was clad in only a loose, white dress shirt and tie.

_'You'd think they'd catch on by now.' _She rolled her eyes, walking into the Host Club's pantry, which held a stove, a sink, and a series of cupboards for cake, tea, and, "peasant" coffee.

It also housed an icebox for freshly-delivered fancy sandwiches for tea, and sushi, for when girls scheduled lunch dates with the hosts.

She opened one of the un-used cabinets and grabbed her bag, turning around and jumping a foot in the air.

"Jeez, Mori-senpai! You scared me!"

The tallest host's lips curled into a tiny smile, and he dug through one of the many cupboards, extracting a paper bag of Oolong tea leaves.

"So how's your appointment going?" Haruhi asked, walking out with him and ignoring the fierce whispers of _yaoi_, and _boy-love_.

_'Can't I talk with a friend and not be compared to a manga character?' _She sighed silently.

"Tea." Mori spoke in his simple way.

"Ugh. They guzzle that stuff like there's no tomorrow." She replied quietly, laughing at the fellow host's slight smirk.

She leaned comfortably against the back of Mori and Honey's couch, watching as the teen let more tea steep in the pot, ignoring the loud chatter of his cousin and their guests.

"So, Haruhi-senpai, how has your week been?" One of the girls tried to pull her into the conversation.

"Good enough." She said politely, checking the clock. She had to be out in five minutes to get home in time.

"Mori-senpai, how's you're week going?" Another guest chimed in.

The boy's reaction was quite shocking, actually.

Haruhi had expected him to reply with his usual, "Fine."

Instead, his shoulders stiffened and he glared harshly at the girl, who shrank back in surprise.

"It has been extremely stressful." The handful of words was a lot- more than his guests had every heard him say at one time.

Before the group could start, "Aww-ing" and trying to comfort their silent prince, Mori stood and strode toward the pantry.

Haruhi raised her brows at this behavior, but a flash caught her eye. Kyoya's glasses.

The host looked quite furious. A elegant hand swept to the pantry's door, and the raven-haired boy pointed.

_'It's not like it was my fault!' _She groused, following her tall friend, nonetheless.

She found him leaning against the sink, a bottle of water in one hand.

"So... What was that about?"

She didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

"Betrothal."

Haruhi gaped. She honestly didn't see Mori as the, "romantic" type, though he was part of the Host Club.

She could hardly imagine him having a crush, let alone marrying a woman!

"Yo-You're getting married?!" She cleared her throat. "Um... Wow."

Mori's mouth drooped with a frown. "Father sent Satoshi to judge my... type, yesterday. He has made a decision."

Haruhi nodded, leaning next to him. "That must be tough." Her sweet nature was comforting, he had to admit.

"He contacted the father of my... fiancee last night. The girl is to be notified today."

"On such short notice?!" The female host bristled. "Are they all crazy? What about how you feel? How the girl feels?" She paid no attention to how unusually talkative her friend was.

Mori simply shook his head, taking a swig of water. "It isn't about feelings. This is supposedly a good financial bond."

"How dare they?!" Haruhi raved, "Marriage shouldn't be about monetary gain! It's supposed to be about love!"

The boy shrugged, tossing the near-full bottle in the sink, where it splattered their backs.

Walking away, he casually waved. "Don't worry about it."

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Haruhi ran up the stairs,_ 'I'm so late! Dad told me to be home fifteen minutes ago!'_

Bursting through her apartment's door, her eyes widened.

Her father was dressed in men's clothing, and was seated across the table from a tall, imposing man.

"Um, hi, dad..." She trailed off.

"Uh... Hello, Haruhi!" Her father's voice climbed an octave.

She carefully placed her bag down, as if afraid of scaring the two men off. "You wanted to tell me something important?"

The male across from her sire cleared his throat. "Hello, Ms. Fujioka. I am Akira Morinozuka, Takashi's father."

She deflated. It must have been something about the Host Club. "Hi."

Ranka spoke up, unknowingly using his alternate feminine voice. "Darling, you know I love you, and I only want what's best for you..."

Akira chimed in. "This would be good for all of us, actually. It would be a fantastic thing!"

Haruhi frowned, confused. "What?"

"Take a seat, honey." Her father cooed, eyes darting around, resting on anything but her own.

She complied, raising a brow.

The Morinozuka smiled tightly. "Your father and I have made a decision... and it would be wonderful if you would reach an agreement, as well."

_'Wait...'_ Haruhi's eyes narrowed.

"Well, baby... I thought that since you're fifteen... it would be great to give you a taste of tradition!" Ranka coughed, once again, avoiding her gaze.

"Dad, what's this about...?" A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. _'Oh no... no, no, no...'_

Akira took over, uncomfortable smile still stretching his lips, "We have agreed that... a marriage between yourself and Takashi would be very beneficial for both of our families."

_'I'm worrying about it, Mori-senpai!'_

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**Oh hot daaaaaammmmnnnn.**

**-D.O.C**


	3. The Girl Revealed

**Intro.**

**-D.O.C**

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**Disclaimer.**

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Haruhi was in shambles.

She had tried to get out of her... marriage, but something her father had said kept ringing through her thoughts.

**_"We need the money, darling... My hours are being cut."_**

She had begged Mr. Morinozuka to cancel their plans, but he had said something, as well.

**_"If Takashi were to marry you, it would be great for our family... We would be able to rid of all the money-hungry harlots after my son, once and for all."_**

Was she doomed to be trapped in some loveless marriage?

Ever since she was a girl, she had wanted to marry a prince.

It was an utterly cliché type of dream, but it was one every girl had.

She wanted him to come running in and save her from her loneliness, to carry her off into the sunset as they experienced love at first sight.

Instead, she was being pushed into the arms of Morinozuka Takashi.

She would be swept off by her tall, near-silent, fellow host, and carried into his bedroom to create an heir.

Haruhi shuddered, scorching anger long gone, replaced by frigid sadness.

_**"Don't worry about it."**_

_'I'm worrying about it, Mori-senpai... I'm worrying...'_

Tears worked their way over her bottom lashes as she tried to curl further into her sheets, ears honing in on the muffled conversation of her sire and Future-Father-in-Law. They were supposed to leave and break the news to Mori, soon.

She couldn't refuse this. She knew it deep down.

If she did, Mori would be shoved into another engagement- probably with some rich girl that he didn't even know.

It would be better for him if he was forced to marry one of his friends.

And, she would be entitled to half of Mori's fortune, which was half his father's, since Satoshi had the other half, seeing as his mother was deceased.

She could definitely see from Ranka's perspective.

Scraping along for years, working every night for wages that were hardly fair... and then to receive a call, saying that, with permission, his daughter could live comfortably for the rest of her life, and would never, again, have to work to pull together a little money to buy herself a meager dinner...

It wouldn't be possible to pass up such a deal.

She absolutely understood Ranka's reasoning.

It wasn't hard to see it the way Akira saw it, either.

Watching dozens of money-grubbing whores going after his son, trying to sink their teeth into him to drain his monetary worth, then finding a young woman like her, whose father gave his consent immediately- it must have seemed too good to be true for him.

_'I'm worrying...'_

What if Mori was heartless when it came to this?

What if he abused her?

Forced her to consummate their marriage?

Divorced her after taking custody of his heir?

Left her in poverty after using her?

Haruhi quickly divested herself of those thoughts.

_'This is Mori-senpai we're talking about!'_

She knew, in her heart-of-hearts, that, no matter what, he would try and make her life happy.

He had always been the one to protect her in the club, always picking her up out of the twins' rib-cracking hugs, always pulling Tamaki off of her when he got too excited to see her.

But she couldn't help but worry what his reaction would be.

He had been so bothered by the mere thought of engagement, and when he found out that he was betrothed to the girl he... most likely... saw as a little sister...

_'I'm worrying about it, Mori-senpai...'_

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"Morinozuka Takashi, winner!"

The words echoed throughout the stadium, and people cheered.

He shook hands with the other contestants, a few glaring at him, the majority congratulating him on another success.

Walking to change out of his uniform, which bore the crest of his school, he studied his prize.

Mori expelled a contented sigh as he held his kendo trophy, a clear, glass plaque, inscribed with golden lettering, bearing the name of the competition and stadium.

_'This tournament ran very late... Satoshi has been done with his practice for two hours...'_ He checked the clock in the locker room as he changed, lacing up his street shoes.

Mori slung his bag over his shoulder, picking up his bokken and walking out, meeting with one of the Morinozuka limos.

"Good evening, sir." The servile driver chirped, tossing a bright smile over his shoulder, which Mori did not return, before raising the tinted partition between them.

He was not in a cheery mood.

Usually, he would, at least, nod at the driver, or even offer a greeting in return.

The boy sighed. Tonight, his father would introduce him to his... intended.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, breath whistling harshly from between his teeth.

It was duty, but it was simple.

Get married.

Produce heir.

Get divorced.

Mori was sure that the poor girl being forced into this would agree with his logic.

She wouldn't want to stay bound to a silent, stony man. That much, he was sure about.

And she would get a cut of his money, as well.

It was her duty, yet it was simple.

Get married.

Surrender body.

Get divorced.

Get paid.

So, damn simple.

Mori smiled slightly at that. Once he had a son, or daughter, seeing as a female heir could suffice, he would be free.

The child could stay with nannies, and the butlers, while he went to college. He wouldn't even have to interact with it.

He then frowned.

No, he couldn't do that to... his child. It wouldn't be right.

The limousine's door opened, interrupting his musings. "We're here, sir."

Nodding to the chauffeur, he slipped out of the leather interior, squaring his shoulders.

_'No going back on plans.' _He stated firmly, internally.

_'Get married.'_

He walked to the doors, where a butler opened them, for him.

_'Produce heir.'_

Mori saw dainty, plain, feminine shoes next to the entrance, side-by-side with his father's expensive ones.

_'Get divorced.'_

He swallowed his pride, slipping out of his street shoes and into house slippers. He made his way to the parlor, where his sire and his future wife were, no doubt, sitting, probably drinking tea.

Mori repeated his mantra. _'Get married. Produce heir. Get divorced.'_

He rounded the corner._ 'Get married.'_

He saw a chestnut-haired head peeking over the luxurious couch. She was obviously far shorter than he was. Her back was turned. _'Produce heir.'_

The older Morinozuka smiled, albeit uncomfortably, at his son, gesturing for him to come closer. _'Get divorced.'_

Then she turned to face him, standing up from her seat, clad in one of her cheap, cotton dresses, borrowed slippers far too big on her tiny feet.

"... Haruhi?..." Mori froze at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes.

"Hey, Mori-senpai!" Her voice was coated with false sweetness.

_'Get married...?'_

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**Outro.**

**-D.O.C**


	4. Breaking the Girl

**Gotta love pre-writing.**

**I wrote these chapters, but these intros/outros/signatures/disclaimers were written right before I uploaded each chappie. A lil freshness to this stale story.**

**-D.O.C**

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**Disclaaaaaaaaiiiiiimmmm!**

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Haruhi was expecting anger, maybe even annoyance, but not this.

He was just standing there, not speaking, eyes filled with terror.

"M-Mori-senpai?" She called hesitantly.

As if the sound of her voice snapped him out of a trance, Mori whirled to his father, fury obvious, yet stoicism still in place.

"Is this some kind of joke?" His deep voice echoed around the large parlor.

Akira shook his head, gesturing to Ranka, who made himself known, walking in from the powder room.

"This is her father." Mr. Morinozuka explained. "And he has given his consent."

"Naïve." Mori supplied his input.

_'That impudent little...' _Akira's eye twitched. "Pardon?"

"Naïve." Mori enunciated, slowly, giving a dictionary definition. "Adjective: Showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgement."

Ranka frowned, bristling, voice hitching up an octave. "H-How dare-"

"Have you not used improper judgement? No." Mori spoke, throat not used to being strained so much in a day. "You have not the wisdom to make such a judgement of character. Haruhi-chan does not want this. You obviously do not know your own daughter if you believe she does."

Ranka was shocked. No one had ever dared to speak like that about his relationship with his daughter, before!

He looked helpless, shooting a glance at Akira to clear the mess he had made.

The elder Morinozuka glared. "Takashi. You will not refuse this. Ms. Fujioka has given her consent, as has her father. I will not allow you to miss such a proposition," He growled.

"Proposition." Mori flicked back, near-casual. "Is marriage intended to be a business agreement?"

"You will learn respect for myself and Mr. Fujioka." Akira stood, furious. "A business agreement? Do you think of us so cruelly?"

"Publicity stunt." Takashi offered, not bothering to make it a question. Eyes hard, yet face the epitome of innocence.

His father snapped, nearly striking him, holding himself back only because his future daughter was standing in view of them. "How dare you think of this as a stunt?! We-"

"Are buying a young girl to carry my heir." Mori interjected. _'Ah, my throat is starting to get very sore... This must be what it feels like when a person screams for hours...'_

Ranka jumped up, breaking his temporary spectator-ship. "My daughter is not here to be used! Her body is not for sale! She made her choice!"

_'Haruhi-chan...'_ Takashi slowly turned to face her. "Is that true?" He murmured.

The girl met his gaze with her puffy eyes. "Yep! Mori-senpai, it wouldn't be so bad to be your wife! I mean, it would be _**fun**_," her voice cracked on the word, "to be married to one of my friends!"

Mori saw straight through her sugared lie. "Father,"

Akira swallowed. Had they convinced him? "Yes, Takashi?"

"Satoshi will give the Morinozuka clan the next heir."

He turned and walked out.

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The trio was silent for a long time.

A cross-dressing man sat on a black, leather couch, and stared blankly at a white wall, mind whirling with possibilities of so much money he could have earned from the engagement, as compensation for losing his daughter. He felt disgusted with himself.

A middle-aged male rubbed his temples, livid. His son might have just lost him his only chance for a grandchild. Satoshi wasn't very interested in the opposite gender, nor did he give a hint to ever be interested. He only ever wanted to train.

A young woman stood stock-still, tears pricking at her eyes. Even if she hadn't necessarily wanted the marriage, it still hurt to be dismissed, so quickly.

The oldest man broke the quiet, cutting into it, "Ms. Fujioka... Perhaps you should go speak to him."

He looked at her with chocolate orbs, matches to Satoshi's, yet so different from Takashi's charcoal-gray eyes. They had a message in them. **_'Please, make this work...'_**

Haruhi smiled stiffly. Why would horrid things only ever happen to her?

She walked from the parlor, anyway, climbing up the staircase. A maid directed her to her friend's bedroom.

A soft knock brought about a slightly-rasped, "Unlocked."

The door swung open silently on well-kept hinges, and revealed a gorgeous, spacious room.

A huge, plush bed was the center piece, clad in sapphire blue silk and white cotton. The walls were cream, while the bed frame was ebony-hued, dresser and doors chestnut.

A large television was mounted on the wall, a table beneath it for electronic trinkets, a light beige wood. The bedside tables were dark brown, and a plush white rug covering most of the dark, wooden floor. Everything was different, but somehow tied together, beautifully.

Mori studied her gaping profile. "Fujioka."

She snapped out of her awe, and closed the door behind her. "Mori-senpai..."

He absently patted the spot next to him, and she perched on the edge of the mattress, at his side.

"You should have refused." He rumbled, a sip of water soothing his rasping.

"I couldn't." She said, simply, letting her words drop into the space in front of their side-by-side persons.

Mori shook his head. "Lie."

"My dad wants me to do this, so I won't ever have to go through what he did." She defended her statement.

"Unworthy."

"How can you say that? Because I don't have a... a dowry?! Am I not good enough?!" Haruhi sneered, tears drying. Was the host truly so unkind?

"No." Mori felt so much more secure with his single-word statements.

"So, I'm _not_ good enough for you?!" She shrieked. He shook his head, ruffling her short hair.

"Unworthy." He repeated, gesturing to himself.

Haruhi was silenced. "W-What...?"

"Sweet." Mori's lips curved into the near-imperceptible smile he always graced her with. Not even Honey got as many smiles from him as she did.

He patted her head, again, repeating himself. "Sweet," adding more adjectives, "Kind. Cute."

Haruhi's cheeks warmed at the compliments, and Mori brought his face close to hers, a move she had seen him use on a few guests, before.

Breath wafting over her features, bringing the scent of cinnamon, he cradled her chin with a large hand and spoke again.

"Unworthy." He referred to himself, word ghosting over Haruhi's lips, a centimeter from his own.

Mori leaned back, walked to his closet and extracted a navy-blue robe.

He left the room, on his way to take a shower.

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**You have to love OOC-ness. It's fun to bend characters the way you wanna!**

**And, I don't intend to impose, but if you could, please drop a review after this chapter. Thanks.**

**-D.O.C**


	5. Protector

**You get extra points if you understood the title of chapter 4! XD**

**Also, I don't get Tumblr. I just got an account, and I'm just like... What.**

**So, I guess, if you want to.. is it follow? I thought that was for Twitter! What the fuck is a Tumblr?! D: Whatever! I'm FeelingGraduated on Tumblr.**

**-D.O.C**

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**Disclaim, yo.**

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Mori berated himself as he undressed.

What was he thinking- acting in such a way?!

Haruhi was probably very confused. He had never done anything like that to her, before.

Slipping into the hot shower, he sighed. He hadn't been able to use his private bathroom. He had to get out of her sight, fast.

_'I'm not like Tamaki or the twins. I can't flirt shamelessly with her. Someone has to protect her... In fact, if I was her husband, I could pro-' _His lips pulled into a tight frown.

_'She was crying. She doesn't want this.' _He lathered his hair._ 'She hates the position she's been put in.'_

Rinsing, he stepped from the large stall. _'Besides, if I don't marry, I could do what I wanted to at college.'_

_'I don't want this, and neither does Haruhi.' _Mori secured his robe, tightly.

Walking from one of the upstair's bathrooms he had chosen, his keen hearing picked up on an exuberant apology from his father, and an equally-profuse, regretful statement from Mr. Fujioka.

He padded to his room, and sat on his bed, which had been abandoned by the girl.

Mentally, he began a countdown.

Five seconds later, the door to the bedroom burst open, and a furious man stomped in.

"You impudent, ungrateful, vile, little whelp!"

Mori simple stood, the same height as his father, yet feeling shorter.

**_Smack._**

Head whipped to the side, Takashi counted, again.

At three seconds after the strike, a murmured apology drifted to his ears, and he turned his head to face his sire.

The middle-aged man sat on the bed, rubbing the back of his hand, soothing the stinging, looking over his son's cheek.

"Takashi... You need a wife. I married at eighteen, and your grandfather did, as well. It's tradition."

"No need."

Akira nodded vigorously, glaring at Mori. "Yes, there is a need. The Morinozuka clan needs the next line to start. We don't want to disappear. I was a single child. You and Satoshi are the last Morinozuka men."

Honey was Mori's cousin on his great-grandmother's side. The Haninozuka line was still going strong.

"You have to, Takashi... Please..." Mori raised a brow. His father wasn't one to _beg_.

"Why?"

"Satoshi is too fragile to be betrothed," Akira looked up with sad eyes, "but you... you can handle this."

Mori scoffed. "Empty words."

Mr. Morinozuka straightened. He had forgotten how Takashi could read him so easily. He pulled out something his son could never refuse.

"It is your duty." If there was one thing the Morinozukas were famous for, it was their honor.

Mori stiffened, retorting sarcastically. "Really?"

Akira inclined his head. "Are you breaking our code of honor?"

The younger male grit his teeth, but immediately dipped his head in defeat. "No."

"So, you consent to this marriage?"

_'Don't you dare, Takashi. Haruhi doesn't want this! You don't want thi-' _"Yes."

"Ms. Fujioka will be notified of your change of heart," Akira smiled softly. He had won.

His father left, and Mori locked the door behind him.

_'You want this...' _His conscience muttered. _'If you didn't, you would have declined.'_

Mori laid back on his bed, not bothering to dress.

"Honor." He tried to justify his actions in his own eyes.

_'Do I want this?...'_

**88888888888888**

Haruhi went to the club, the next day, in a fog of confusion.

Hikaru and Kaoru immediately noticed something was off, and encased her in a dual-hug.

"What's wrong with our Haruhi?" They chorused, and Tamaki swooped in, brandishing a metal baseball bat.

"Get off of her!" He shrieked, threatening the hissing pair, and engaged them in a game of tug-of-war.

Mori walked in, looked at the quartet, calmly slid Honey off his shoulders, and waded into the mess of arms and snarls.

Easily picking Haruhi out of the tangle, he silenced the remaining three with a cold stare.

The trio of boys frowned, simultaneously. Mori always waited until Haruhi asked for his help- he never did something so unexpected!

"What's up with you?" Hikaru frowned.

Mori simply turned and deposited her on the floor, walking away to join Honey for tea.

The four teens studied his profile, which was set in a blank mask as he prepared drinks and watched Honey eat cake, and thawed out from their confusion.

"What was that about?" Tamaki tossed his bangs.

Haruhi blushed brightly. When her dad had gotten the call the night before, carrying word of Mori's agreement, Ranka had squealed with joy.

She had been confused, and still was. What had made Mori change his view?

Hikaru reached for her arm, once more, but Morinozuka spoke in a threatening tone.

"Hikaru. Kaoru."

One of the auburn-haired twins grumbled, and the other spoke up.

"Mori, what's going on? Why ya acting like this, all of a sudden?!"

The tall host sighed. He would not tell them. Could not.

"Haruhi is obviously not in the mood."

The girl nodded sheepishly, walking to put her bag away. Tamaki followed.

They disappeared into the pantry, and Mori made a mental note.

It would not do to have his fiancee alone in a room with his flirtatious friend. He trusted Tamaki, and he trusted Haruhi, but it was unbecoming of a betrothed woman to spend so much time with the opposite sex.

Haruhi was thinking the same thing. _'Will Mori-senpai be mad if I'm alone with Tamaki?'_

"What's with Mori? You obviously know!" He demanded, breaking through her musings.

"He's had a rough week. But things are okay, now. He's probably just a little cranky." She shrugged.

The blonde seemed to accept this, and took her hand, "Don't worry about anyone. Daddy will make sure everyone's happy! Even Mommy!" An indigo eye winked.

_'I'm sorry for keeping secrets from you, dad.'_ Haruhi laughed lightly, wondering when it had stopped bothering her to call him that.

**88888888888888**

**Yay!**

**-D.O.C**


End file.
